


a small victory...

by startswithhope



Series: sweater weather... [7]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Autumn, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Marshmallows, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startswithhope/pseuds/startswithhope
Summary: Patrick shares an emotional moment with his father at his childhood home huddled around their fire-pit while toasting marshmallows.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: sweater weather... [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1482623
Comments: 25
Kudos: 245





	a small victory...

He can hear his mom and David laughing through the screen door, the warm glow from the kitchen the only light illuminating his parents’ house as the evening creeps past twilight. The fire-pit is providing much needed warmth on this mid-November night, keeping them all toasty _(along with the wine David and his mom are supposed to be replenishing)_. 

“Your mom might love him more than you,” he hears his father joke from beside him and Patrick quickly turns to him with a knowing smile.

“I’ve definitely lost my favorite son title.” 

His father laughs and nods in agreement as he reaches into the bag of marshmallows and hands Patrick a fresh one. David had stolen the one he’d just finished toasting on his way back inside the house, burning his fingertips in the process. Patrick had just reminded him that karma is a bitch.

Poking the marshmallow onto the end of his skewer, he scoots a bit closer to the flames and begins to toast.

“This is nice.”

Glancing at his father, he tries to read his expression in the light of the fire, curious to see if he can read through the lines of that seemingly simple declaration. He knows his father well and is aware that he’s a man of few words. But those words, they can mean a lot if Patrick is really paying attention.

He sees a simple truth in his father’s eyes. That this _is_ nice. The ease of it all. It’s nice and comfortable and... _right_.

“It is,” Patrick agrees. But then he ventures something more truthful, something he’s only recently admitted to himself. “Nicer than I thought I deserved…”

A large hand comes to rest on his forearm and he looks down at it, taking in those long fingers that taught him how to hold a baseball bat, and held his wrist the first time he practiced shaving _(minus the blade)_ in the bathroom mirror. And more times than he can count, the hand that had comforted him when he was sad, or hurt, the hand that had clasped his back in a firm hug even after learning he was gay. 

“Why wouldn’t you deserve this, Patrick?”

“Because I was hurting people. And I was scared.” Shifting his gaze from his father’s hand to his face, he attempts a small smile before continuing. “I wasn’t allowing myself to see.”

“Neither were we, son.”

A breath Patrick feels like he’d been holding his entire life comes out in a quick huff and he quickly rests his hand over his father’s still holding onto his arm. Neither of them speak, but years worth of overdue conversations seem to pass between them with this simple touch. His sinuses begin to burn and he has to look away, taking a deep breath to try to regain his composure. 

“He’ll never admit that I’m right.”

Looking up at the sound of David’s voice, he sees David is crossing towards them on the lawn, full wine glass in one hand and his other wrapped around his mother’s elbow. 

“He gets that from his father,” she’s attempting to whisper, but she’s never been good at that, especially after a few glasses of wine.

“Hey!” Patrick and his father speak in unison, earning them both a raised eyebrow from David and a fit of giggles from his mother.

“What won’t I admit?” Patrick asks David as he sits beside him. 

“Oh nothing you need to worry about.” David takes a slow sip of his wine and Patrick is just about to protest, but he feels David’s foot slide around his, locking their ankles. The smile David is attempting to hide against the rim of his glass is enough to quiet Patrick and he presses his calf further into David’s in content acquiescence.

Returning to his forgotten marshmallow, he positions it closer to the flames and watches the white exterior turn golden, allowing the moment he’s living in to really sink in. The man he loves is getting adorably tipsy beside him with his parents cuddled close together on his other side. They love David in ways David probably doesn’t even realize, not just because of his relationship with their son, but because of who he is. They see him, too. And not that he needed it, but it’s all just making Patrick feel as though the decisions he’s made for his life are somehow validated, respected by the two people he’s most wanted to impress for so long.

Catching his marshmallow right before it drops from the skewer, he pulls it back from the fire and holds it out of David’s reach to cool. To make it even harder for David to perpetuate another theft, he reaches over and holds out his hand, smiling into the flames when he feels David’s fingers tangle with his. 

“That’s for me, right?” David jokes, his smile going all mischievously crooked as soon as Patrick looks over with a shake of his head.

“Nope, this one’s mine.”

“Isn’t there something in the marriage vows about what’s mine is yours or something like that?”

Patrick chuckles and lifts the marshmallow to his lips, flinching slightly as the gooey center hits his tongue. If his parents weren’t here, he’d lean over and share with David via a kiss, but that might be more PDA than any of them are comfortable with. Instead, he just catches David’s gaze, hoping the thought can be conveyed with a flirtatious wink. 

David just shakes his head and squeezes Patrick’s fingers, hiding his smile again behind his wine.

“You’re the worst winker.”

His father laughs at that and leans towards David with an apologetic smile.

“Sorry David, he gets that from me, too.”

To prove it, he tries to wink, failing miserably and sending all four of them into a fit of laughter. 

Patrick looks around at all of them and allows himself another indulgent moment of taking everything in. David might think that the trajectory of his life is the hardest to believe, and that’s probably true, but Patrick can’t help but feel a small victory of his own. His prize, it’s this. This night, this life, this love.

This family, both here and back in Schitt’s Creek. 

_It’s what he deserves._


End file.
